


Two Days

by aliciutza



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Parentage Reveal, and smut ofc some smut, missing moments ftw, somewhere after 8x01 but before 8x02 and with some other stuff sprinkled in between
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-20
Updated: 2019-04-20
Packaged: 2020-01-22 22:28:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18536731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aliciutza/pseuds/aliciutza
Summary: Dany fears the worst when she notices that Jon keeps avoiding her after her meeting with Sam. But Queens must face hard truths, and Jon cannot avoid her forever. A season 8 missing moment - somewhere between episodes 1 and 2.





	Two Days

**Author's Note:**

> Episode 1 did not inspire me much... and then last night it hit me. And it hit me hard. Unbetaed so...enjoy! :D

Two days.

 

That was how much it had been since he had even spared her a look. Two entire days without so much as a word from him—well, at least not a word addressed to her; all his words were spoken to the Queen— _her Grace this_ , _her Grace that_ , if it would please _Her Grace_. No, her Grace was most definitely not pleased. Two days without his touch. Two days without his lips on hers.

 

 

The cold reception had been expected, but it had been much worse than she had hoped for. Maybe the woman convinced the Queen that at least Jon’s family would be less harsh than the rest of the North. It stung, nonetheless, Bran’s indifference at delivering the news of her poor son’s tortured soul, Sansa’s rudeness, and Arya’s outright absence. It stung to see the people she was supposed to help save defy her at every corner; and had it been under different circumstances, she would have taken Jon and her two sons and gone back to Braavos, in search of her lost childhood home, the Night King and his army be damned. But she had promised, and even if she wanted, she couldn’t just leave; not after she had seen the army of the dead with her own eyes.

 

He was the same Jon—her Jon—after they had bonded over dragonriding. Oh, how he had kissed her again and again in front of her curious sons. He had claimed her in the fresh untouched snow—his cloak now forever carrying the memory of their lovemaking—their blood running hot with the newly shared bond with the last remaining dragons. Never had she felt someone in her life so close to her heart, as if an invisible tether bound her soul to his in perpetuity.

 

She did not realise it, not at first. Not when night fell, on the day they arrived in Winterfell and he did not come to her. He had told her it would probably be difficult for him to find his way to her chambers that night, but hope gnawed at her insides, making her heart clench with every noise she would hear outside her door. She wanted to speak to him, needed comfort after her unpleasant talk with Samwell Tarly, needed reassurance that she had done the right thing. Jon would understand, he knew what strength meant. She had fallen asleep on what was now her side of her bed, mostly clothed and her hair in braids.

 

The next day, she had simply brushed the fragments of her worry away, hoping that if Jon hadn’t been with her, he had at least spent time with his siblings—which she had encouraged. Panic wound its cold hands around her throat like a vise when he hadn’t shown up at the morning meal. Both Tyrion and Ser Davos had shot her sympathetic looks, yet no explanation had been provided. Ser Jorah had accompanied her for the rest of her walk around the Great Keep, then to her Dothraki, her Unsullied, and lastly to her sons. Still, no sign of Jon.

 

On her way back, noise from the courtyard made her quicken her pace; the Stark guards were ushering a man inside the Great Hall. Surprisingly, they stopped when she asked what was happening. It seemed her duty called; she made her way to the dais and sat in the centre, facing down the last man she wanted to see that day—Jamie Lannister. Jon had eventually slipped into the Hall, his presence providing a much-needed respite from the tension bubbling, waiting to spill over. Tyrion audibly breathed in relief when she pardoned his brother—all Northern eyes trained on her. Even then, Jon was the only one to still stare at Jaime and not at her.

 

As soon as the meeting ended, he rushed out, not giving her a chance to say a word. He did not come for supper, so she retreated early, Missandei in tow, her mind spinning, her body weary—the exhaustion from the long hard ride to Winterfell finally catching up with her. She fell into a restless sleep as soon as her head hit the pillow.

 

 

The next morning, they had the first war council, which had gone as expected—planning without accounting for the numbers Cersei would have provided, discussing and designing new dragonglass weapons, deciding who would lead which troops. Even Tyrion’s protests against her participating on Drogon in the battle had been anticipated. Silence fell over the room, everyone staring expectantly at Jon, probably waiting for him to stop her. His fists had clenched a few times around the backrest of the chair he was holding onto, his knuckles certainly white underneath his gloves, his gaze trained on the map spread out on the table in front of him.

 

“Daenerys is right. We need all the help we can get out there,” he had simply stated. Tyrion tried protesting, but their minds were already made up. At least he knew better than to fight her on this. A knock interrupted them, her plans of waiting for everyone to shuffle out of the solar so she could speak to him, abandoned. Her people needed her, so she went to Dothraki camp.

 

The day had passed quickly, whether it was because she was among people who loved her or because the days were getting shorter, she couldn’t tell. Dany didn’t want to return to the Great Hall and have supper in such hostile company, thus ending her day again on a bitter tone. She sent her apologies through Ser Jorah, knowing she wouldn’t be missed, and went to bed without touching the food that Missandei had brought for her.

  

 

She woke up early—the first rays of the winter sun not even breaking through the darkness settled over the cold North. Two days. Dany choked a sob—for not knowing what had changed was slowly killing her. She wondered whether love could die in two days, since the chasm between them seemed to grow by the hour, mocking her and her attempts at bringing him back to her. Had it been his siblings? Could they have said something to him? Had it been Samwell? Ser Davos had mentioned they were brothers in the Night’s Watch—was Jon cross? She slowly got up, wiping the hot tears away from her eyes, despite the uneasiness she felt as soon as her feet touched the cold floor.

 

“There’s no time for that,” she whispered into the quiet room. She was still a Queen, and Queens did not play games. If Jon did not love her anymore, he would have to look her in the eye and tell her.  Dany hastily laced her boots and donned her white fur coat.

 

She was stopped short in her tracks when she opened the door and almost collided with Jon—his hand raised as if he was about to knock.

 

Two days. That’s how long it had been since she had stared into his grey eyes.

 

His breath hitched, a silent question—the same one from that first night on her ship. Her hand pushed the door open, a silent reply. And all at once he lunged at her, his foot kicking the door a bit too forcefully—the hinges shaking with the impact—his hands on her lower back, his lips on hers, her breath stolen away, their eyes falling closed in sync, her hands in his hair, his tongue pushing into her mouth, his arms pulling her flush to him, until there was no space between them other than the one provided by their clothes.

 

He kissed her hard, her insatiable wolf, until he had to come up for air; his hands cradled her face, tilting her chin up, his eyes boring into hers—it felt as if they had been separated for weeks.

 

“I am sorry,” he finally spoke. “I needed to think. Sam…he told me some things…”

 

She faltered, but before she could explain herself or ask why he had denied her for two days over something that could have been solved with a discussion, he shook his head.

 

“Not about that. I don’t care about that. It took me two days but I know at least two things now. First—Sam told me about my mother.” Jon took a shaky breath, His thumbs sliding over her jaw. “It turns out your sons are the most intelligent creatures; they like me not just because their mother does, but also…because of who my parents are. Rhaegar…he did not steal Lyanna away. They ran away; he loved her and she loved him. I am their son.”

 

He closed his eyes, the burden of such a secret settling over the entire room. _He loved her and she loved him_ —the words echoed in her mind, oddly comforting, the memory of her brother no longer tainted by the lies of the usurper. She closed her hands around his wrists, hoping he would look at her again.

 

Fear and sadness were etched on his face. “Dany—I—I don’t want the throne. I want nothing to do with it. I want you. The only kingdom I want to rule is the one inside your chambers.”

 

She was the one to kiss him this time, his surprise and relief so obvious, it broke her heart that he would think she would suddenly set him aside just because he was her family. Family—that was everything she had ever wanted.  

 

She pulled back to look at him, “I love you, Jon. You. Jon Snow, illegitimate child of Ned Stark or secret child of Rhaegar Targaryen. Heir to the Iron Throne or not. King in the North or just Warden. You were already my family before I knew you were my actual family.”

 

He smiled so brightly, his eyes shining with tears waiting to spill over his beautiful face.

 

“No longer alone. No longer the last of my family,” her voice broke on the last word.

 

“Family. Our family. I love you, Daenerys Targaryen, no longer last of _our_ house.”

 

He loved her, and she loved him. Dany pulled him to her, sealing their avowals with a searing kiss. And just like that, the urgency and need from their first kiss was back. Their hands moved in a perfectly rehearsed dance, familiar with the fastenings and the lacings of each other’s clothes. Soon, but not soon enough, they were naked and he was pushing her on the bed, his lips leaving hers to eventually move down her body. Yet she couldn’t wait any longer, her desire for him so strong, she pushed him on his back, her intentions clear. His dark eyes followed her as she mounted him—immediately aligning her already dripping cunt with his hard cock. She rode him slowly, her moves deliberate, sliding up and all the way down his shaft, bracing herself on his chest. He would not take his eyes off hers, not even when she would hit his sensible spots—the ones that usually made his eyes roll to the back of his head—his hands resting at the crease of her hips, gently aiding her create more friction. A few more thrusts and she was spent, Jon soon chasing his own release.

 

She fell to rest on his chest, everything he told her replaying in her mind to the rhythm of his heartbeat. As her breath calmed, it became clear—her missing moonblood, her queasiness, her fatigue—she sat up and took one of Jon’s hands, touching it to her womb. “Family.”

 

Jon’s fingers caressed her skin, a knowing smile spreading over his entire features. “Aye, family.” He sat up and hugged her to his chest, the reality of it settling into her heart, growing strong like the fruit of their love. They would no longer be alone, nor the last ones. Jon rocked her gently back and forth, humming some childhood song, her heart so full of love it was about to burst at the realisation they had somehow found each other. They only had to survive and they would have everything they had dreamed of. Family.

 

“You mentioned a second thing,” Dany suddenly remembered.

 

“I have spoken to Davos. He is to discuss marriage with Tyrion. I will make an official proposal on the morrow.” She cocked her head to the side and opened her mouth, yet he quickly added, “You’re free to ref—”

 

“Yes, I accept,” she blurted.   

 

“You shouldn’t take decisions without your Hand’s advice, _Your Grace_ ,” Jon chuckled.

 

“ _The Queen_ has deemed that there is no better suitor available in Westeros and Essos.”

 

Jon shook his head, a big smile pulling at his lips as she yawned. He fell back on the pillows and pulled her along, sliding her body next to his, until she was nestled in the crook of his arm. “Rest, I know you haven’t been sleeping well.”

 

She scoffed, “Do you have spies in the Queen’s chambers?”

 

“Aye, this is my Kingdom, after all, isn’t it? Now sleep.” He pressed his lips to the crown of her head, “You both need it.”

 

She nuzzled against his side, his slow caresses on her lower back lulling her to her first restful sleep in Winterfell.  

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you thought! I am very excited for episode 2, I am truly hoping it will inspire me more than episode 1 :)
> 
> Come say hi on [tumblr](http://adecila.tumblr.com) I try to watch the episode live for some live blogging, I post episode summary and promo analysis.


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